


Fifteen Minutes

by barefootwithneonhands



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Flash Fic, Gen, Short One Shot, Spoilers through 1x12, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootwithneonhands/pseuds/barefootwithneonhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is important to appreciate history as it unfolds. And to savor the moment before you begin the final phase of a plan twenty years in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Minutes

At 4:44pm Pacific Daylight Time she pulls her truck neatly into a space outside the trading post. It is precisely six spots down from the entrance and in the only blind spot in the trifecta of cameras from the Bank of the West ATM across the street, the Burger King that shares the parking lot, and above the trading post door. In the last twenty years people have begun to rediscover that the world is a darker place than their mothers told them and she finds it amusing that they reach for their electronic sentries to keep them safe. As though keeping watch on evil was the same as keeping it from creeping under your door.

The engine pings loudly under the hood as it cools and she grits her teeth.  Now is not the time for imperfection, and she will add that to her long list of things to do tomorrow. Somewhere between _burn the papers_ and _scrub down the cabin for fingerprints_.

There will be so little time after today.

Two girls rocket down the sidewalk and up to the door over to the Burger King, chattering excitedly. Their mother limps behind, looking haggard. She can remember when she had her own little pigtailed chatterbox to endure. The bone deep exhaustion of succoring a cuckoo’s child day after day, and the despair of seeing nothing of herself in the creature she gave everything to. Sons are so much easier.

There’s no sign of the girls’ father anywhere. It’s ironic, she thinks. Men are nowhere to be found when they’re needed, and the name on everyone’s lips when they’re most inconvenient. She wonders what his first words to her will be. If he’ll have time to say anything before they slit his throat and catch the hot, coppery blood in a silver chalice. His eyes had always been expressive, and frequently at odds with whatever was coming out of his lying mouth. Maybe seeing the light go out of them would be enough.

A crow lands on the hood of her truck, and cocks one blazing red eye at her. She nods to it, and her fingers tighten on the steering wheel until she can hear the leather creak. It fluffs its dark feathers, hops toward her, and pecks three times at the windshield. Inside the truck the sound echoes like three hollow knocks on a tomb door.

“All right,” she whispers, her voice like dead leaves skittering across a sidewalk. Her leather jacket creaks as she moves to open the door and step out into the woodsmoke scented afternoon.

At 4:59pm she walks in to check her mail.

**Author's Note:**

> I... haven't written fiction in four years. I haven't posted fanfic since the early days of FF.net, and never under this name. But apparently The Black Tapes is what it took to get me back in the game. God help you all.


End file.
